Bronwyn Green

The Corner of Quirky & Kinky

In addition to writing, I have a day job – daycare to be exact. I take care of kids before and after school and all day long in the summer – I’ve done it for the last sixteen or seventeen years. Most days, I genuinely enjoy it. I love kids. I love how they think. I love their senses of humor and their creativity. I even love their stubborn determination.
Syd Vicious, my eldest daycare kiddo started when she was five weeks old and is now 16 and dating some boy and not coming to daycare anymore but still calling me several times a month for a ride to school when she misses the bus. She also bakes me cheesecakes and come to visit “just because.”
Jess started when she was eighteen months old and is now is 13, boy crazy, is desperate to be Goth and insanely creative – I’m teaching her to sew and she’s designing her own clothes.

Abby aka B (because love her though I do, she is a big one) is Jess’ sister and started when she was two weeks old and is now 9. While she no longer plays pet proctologist, she’s still nuts about animals and very sweet.
Then there’s The Young Prince. Don’t get me wrong, I care about him, I really do, but right now he’s pissing me off beyond belief.
I have never met a person – child or adult with such an overdeveloped sense of entitlement. At 10, one would think that he’d realize that the world does not revolve around him. Alas, he does not. He doesn’t seem to understand that homework isn’t something that only happens to other kids. He demands to be waited on, spoon fed the answers to his assignments and allowed to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. This doesn’t fly at my house. It never has, and it’s not about to start.

I’ve had this particular child in my care for four years, and I’m sure it will surprise no one when I say his mother is exactly the same way. It’s all about her, her her. His mother, despite having very little discernable income, buys him things constantly. Cell phones, video games, video game systems to keep him from pestering her and then wonders why A.) she has no money and B.) why he’s so demanding. Gosh…let me think.

This morning I’ve been warned that he got up at 12:30 am and stayed up all night dinking around on the computer. Which means that by the time I get him in the afternoon, he’ll be a bloody nightmare. Before you ask, I’m not making enough money writing yet to give up my day job. Some days I want to scream. I suspect this afternoon may be one of them.

BTW, about my (latest) spectacular fall. I’m okay – just sore and bruised and oh so clumsy.

Anny! I’m so glad you liked MC – made my day! 🙂

Now on to things that require no bitching…free books!

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, “My darling I could spend eternity…” on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –1st prize–5 books

2nd prize–3 books

3rd prize–2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero

Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess

Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle

Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth

N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke

Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone

Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray

Kelly Kirch Time for Love

Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Feels like forever since I blogged – oh wait, it has been.

Let’s see…Friday we had another snow day so there were lots of preadolescents and adolescents in my house all day. Well, actually there were only five, but it sure seemed like more at the time.

Saturyday was my oldest’s soccer game (indoor in a freezing cold ice rink) and they played a team of cyborgs – either that or David Beckham is running a training camp in rural Michigan. Yeah, I thought the cyborgs seemed more likely, too.

Sunday, my sister and her partner brought me daffodils because they know how much I hate February. They’re so pretty – all yellow and sunny. They cheered me up even after I lost my battle with gravity and tumbled down the basement stairs while trying to lug up laundry.

Note to self: Next house must have a dishwasher and main floor laundry facilities. Sigh…I’m such a klutz.

I wanted to say CONGRATULATIONS to Dakota Rebel who’s first book Sweet Dreams released today.

I also wanted to say THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU to the fabulous Kelly Kirch for her awesome book review of Mystic Circle.

And last but not least…the Eternally Yours Contest starts tomorrow!

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, “My darling I could spend eternity…” on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –1st prize–5 books

2nd prize–3 books

3rd prize–2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

It’s official…I’m done with winter. Done. Done. Done.

My car wouldn’t start this morning because it was so bloody cold out. I dinked around with it for twenty-five minutes, finally got it started and drove the boys to school on crappy roads. They weren’t nearly as bad as yesterday, but they were still icy and yucky. It took me 50 minutes to make a 10 minute drive and the way home was worse.

I want sunshine…and new grass. Grape hyacinths and lilacs. Thunderstorms instead of blizzards. Sigh…today, we’re under another winter weather advisory…translation – 6-12 inches of fresh snow. Grr Argh.

In other news…we have a winner from yesterday’s contest at the Ellora’s Cave chat loop. lrwirum wins a copy of one of my EC books – her choice. So lrwirum, please email me at bronwyn@bronwyngreen.com and let me know which book you’d like and in what format. Congratulations! And thank you to all of you who entered!

Mystic Circle is out today! As research for this story (and because it was ridiculously fun) I took a ten week citizen police academy course with our local police department. I’ve never really been one of those ‘man in uniform’ sort of girl, but during the course of class – particularly during the 12 hour ride along – I developed a new appreciation for cops.
Thanks to those handy-dandy dashboard cameras, during the class session on traffic stops I learned that my brother and his ex-girlfriend are not only a cautionary tale on those wild car chase cop shows and you tube, but have become part of police training courses. 10 years later and it’s still going strong. The moral here is, if you get pulled over, don’t steal the cop car. I’m so proud.
Anyway, here’s an excerpt from Mystic Circle, and remember kids…don’t steal police cars. It never ends well.
~Excerpt~
He opened the passenger door of a giant black SUV and leaned against it. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. Get in and I’ll take you home.”
“Gee, since you asked so nicely… No.”
“Becca…” The warning in his voice was unmistakable.
“I’m not getting in.” She looked over the vehicle in disgust. “Besides the fact that it’s got to be one of the least environmentally friendly vehicles on the road—”
He rolled his eyes but she continued.
“It’s also yours and you’ve got to be a complete fuck-wit if you think I’m going anywhere else with you. The field trip to the interrogation room was plenty, thanks.”
“Get in the damn truck.”
The commanding tone of his voice dampened her pussy in record time. How she was still able to get the hots for him after all he’d put her through today was mind-boggling. Maybe it was a stress response. Whatever it was, she needed to get home before she did something stupid and invite him back to finish what they’d started at Patrick’s wedding.
“Good night, detective,” she said as she turned away.
Grasping her wrist as she started to walk away, he tugged her back. “We’re not done.”
“If you’re not arresting me, then we’re done.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This started two years ago and it’s nowhere near finished.” This was the first time he’d actually mentioned their dance floor indiscretion.
She stepped back as far as she could with him still holding on to her and another thought occurred to her. “At the wedding, were you using me to try to get information about the Donallys? Is that what this is about? You think maybe I’ll tell you something new about this case if you seduce it out of me?”
Her heart sank. She’d thought he’d actually been attracted to her. And like a moron, she’d thought maybe he still was. The truth really did hurt.
He shook his head. “This is about you and me, granola—not the case.”
She blinked at him. “Did you just call me granola?”
“Yep.” The smile she hadn’t seen for two years appeared briefly and she melted a little inside.
“There is no you and me,” she murmured. No matter how much she might wish for the opposite. Why did she still have to want him after all of this? How could she still want him?
He yanked her flush against his body and locked his arm around her waist. She took a breath only to feel her pebbled nipples rasp against his chest. He lowered his head to hers and she couldn’t convince herself to pull away. Would it be so bad to give in to the desire simmering between them?
“Granola?” she asked, staring at him.
He kissed the corner of her mouth. “You’re just like granola,” he murmured as he moved his lips along the line of her jaw. “A little salty.” He gently bit her earlobe and her hands convulsed on his shoulders. He took her mouth in a sweeping kiss, tasting every inch of her, his tongue toying with her piercing, before lifting his head. “And so sweet.”
Turning, he pinned her against the side of his SUV. The cool metal was a sharp contrast to the hot flesh of the man pressed against her body. She sighed into his mouth as he kissed her again. What a pushover she was, softening against him as soon as he kissed her. Her anger had evaporated or had at least turned to lust. Running her fingers through his dark, wet hair, she pulled him closer.
His big, rough hands stroked the bare skin of her back sending need rocketing through her. Rain soaked them making their skin slick and she fought the urge to strip his shirt from him right here on the street where anyone could see. Of course, it was pouring rain and they were mostly hidden by his vehicle and the buildings on either side of the alley but did she dare? She settled for sliding her hands up and under the wet fabric and exploring the taut muscles of his chest and back.
He groaned at her touch. “I’d forgotten how good you taste.”
He tugged at the strings of her halter top where it was secured around her neck.
“Jack…” She tried unsuccessfully to slap his hand away.
He held her motionless with those chocolate brown eyes—eyes that were no longer cold and distant. “I need more, Becca. I need to taste more of you.”
A fresh rush of moisture flooded her core at his words. When he looked at her like that, she needed him to taste more too. Lowering her hand she let him finish untying her top. Almost reverently, he bared her breasts to his eyes and the elements. Rain spattered her pebbled nipples as his heated gaze enveloped her.
He licked the moisture from her skin purposely avoiding her aching nipples. “Damn it, Jack! Don’t tease.”
Before she’d finished speaking he engulfed an aching peak in the scalding heat of his mouth, sucking hard. Clasping his head, she arched away from the truck keeping his mouth right where she wanted it. His lips tugged rhythmically at her breast and her womb pulsed needily in time with every glorious pull. Want cascaded through her body as she shuddered in his arms.
He groaned as he moved from one breast to the other. The sound was barely audible in the falling rain but the vibrations coursed through her body. At this rate, he’d have her coming with nothing more than his mouth on her nipples. He dragged his lips over her collarbone and nipped at it before continuing the climb along the column of her throat, back to her lips. The stubble on his face abraded her skin but she didn’t care. She wanted more.
As he kissed her, he bunched her skirt in his hands, dragging the fabric upward to bare her legs. This was no careful seduction, this was desperation pure and simple and Goddess did she understand that need. She fumbled with his belt, loosening it and yanking his zipper down and freeing the button at the waistband.
“You’d better have a condom, Jack.” She slid her hand inside his pants and wrapped her fingers around the thick, hot length of his cock.
He shuddered at her touch. “Jesus, Becca,” he breathed. He pulled her hand from his jeans and secured both of her wrists in his hand above her head. “Don’t,” he growled against her neck. “I’m too damn close.”
His rough voice scraped over her nerve endings and she took a shaky breath, inhaling the scent of warm male and cool rain.
“I don’t think you’re close enough,” she said, nipping at his lower lip before soothing it with her tongue.”
The rain fell faster running in rivulets over her bare skin as he ground his rock-hard cock against her mound. He took her mouth again as he slipped his free hand under her ass and lifted her, pulling her closer.
What was she doing? This was the man who refused to believe her. The one who’d hauled her down to the police station and questioned her for hours. He was also the man who’d haunted her dreams for the past two years. She couldn’t make herself push him away. Maybe this encounter with Jack was what she needed to move on with her life.
“More,” she demanded freeing her hands and shoving his shirt up.
So I’m trying to be a good kid and get back into my writing groove. It’s been horribly interrupted lately. Following the funeral, the boys and I all got the stomach flu. HUZZAH.
But, I’m making a valiant effort to get back on track. I’m working on Guardian’s Challenge which is the sequel to my first ever release, Overlord’s Vessel.

I got quite a bit of reader mail about this guy. I hope his story lives up to reader expectation.

Well, I’m off to help out in my youngest son’s art class…so much to do…such poor use of time management skills.

It’s been a long week. I’m so relieved it’s Friday. It’s really been a festival of suck around here.

The mom of one of my son’s friends committed suicide. I’m having trouble making sense of this myself, let alone trying to help Killian make sense of it. In the last five years, three people I know have made this particular choice, and all were parents with young kids.

As horrible as the first two deaths were, this woman’s death seems worse. Maybe it’s because she was around my age and we both have two boys. Maybe it’s because the other two were men and not always around as far as parenting went. It might just be because I can’t imagine doing something that would take me away from my kids like that.

This particular mom was very active in the school. She was funny, energetic, loved the kids and they all loved her, too. The funeral was yesterday. Most of my son’s eighth grade class attended. I spend quite a bit of time at the school and know most of these kids pretty well. I can’t tell you how hard it is to watch this group of 13 and 14 year olds dealing with this kind of grief and confusion. Most of the girls wept openly, but it was the boys that really got to me as they tried to be tough and keep from crying. It literally hurt my chest to watch the way they stood with hunched shoulders and hands shoved in their pockets, occasionally pulling them out to dash at their eyes with closed fists. The way they awkwardly hugged the boy who’d lost his mom was just as painful to watch.

I know it’s impossible to protect kids from pain…and it’s not even a good idea. God knows it’s something that we all have to learn to deal with during the course of our lives, but sometimes I’d really like to shelter them. Hell, sometimes I’d like to shelter me…or the mom who felt like she had no other options.

In other slightly less depressing news, my kidneys…they still hate me. The infection is back. I get to go to the doctor’s next week for an ultra sound of the rotten little buggers. yippee. On the plus side, I have an excuse for more of season six of Buffy. However, it seems kinda lame in spite of everything else.

I’m pretty geeked. I just found out that my upcoming

release is FLE free. No final line edits except for a couple
commas that needed to be extracted as I like commas far more than the publishing industry. I also got my author copies this morning too – woohoo.

In celebration of lack ‘o fles, I’m posting the picture pages for Mystic Circle and an excerpt. These are some of my earlier pages and I’m less fond of them than I am some of the later ones…particlarly Jack’s page, but oh well. I’m not about to re-do them.

~Excerpt from Mystic Circle ~
“Look,” she cut him off. “I’ll tell you everything I know. Then, I imagine you’ll invite me downtown.” She held his gaze, her voice steady. “Let’s just skip the part where you’re a jerk.”

“Okay, witchypoo. Do your thing. Cast your spell and tell me what I need to know.” God, he was a bastard today. Who was he kidding? Today wasn’t any different.

She narrowed her eyes. “Antagonistic. Let’s skip that part too.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, almost contrite.
The sculpted muscles of her arms and shoulders tightened with tension. She dropped her gaze, seeming unnerved by his apology. Defeat tugged at the corners of her mouth.
He cleared his throat. “Go ahead and tell me what happened.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she began. “So I ran a bath.”

He tried to force the image of her lying back in a tub, droplets of water beaded on her breasts from his mind.

Absently fiddling with a silver locket that dangled between her breasts, she glanced at him quizzically—as if she knew his thoughts. Yeah, right.

“I know you’re going to think I’m crazy,” she blurted. “But I’m telling you the truth.”
His pen hovered above the notepad. “Go ahead.”
She took a breath as if sucking in courage. “I lit some candles.”
He closed his eyes, haunted by the thought candle light shimmering on her damp breasts.
“Anyway, I kind of zoned out, just staring at the flames reflected in the water. And I saw it.” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard.

He waited for her to continue. Unless she said she saw the abduction of Sharon Delong through her bathroom window, she was lying.
“I saw a man dragging a tall, blonde woman out of her house. She broke a glass pane in her front door as she was trying to hang on and cut herself.”

The coroner had pulled tiny shards of glass from the victim’s right hand. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, warding off the tickle of unease that crept over his skin.

“He tied her hands and put a black cloth over her head. Then he shoved her in a van.”

Jack glanced at Becca. Her eyes were closed and tears seeped down her cheeks. A pang of regret prodded him but he fought the stupid urge to comfort her.
“I saw street signs as they traveled but then they got blurry. The van stopped in front of a white two story house. I got out of the tub and tried to call the police but my phone was dead.” She winced apologetically. “I always forget to put it on the charger. I threw on some clothes and ran down to the payphone outside of Sid’s Market.”

“That’s your story?”
Her eyes flew open and she pinned him with her shiny gaze. “It’s the truth.”
He shook his head. “The only way you could possibly have these details is if you participated.”
She shot to her feet. “I would never harm anyone. I certainly wouldn’t torture a person and carve into her flesh.”
Bingo . He had her. “You didn’t mention that little detail earlier.”

“I saw it while I was waiting for someone to pick up the phone. I saw her tied to a table and…and then he cut her.”
“Who is he?” Jack asked.
“I have no idea.”
He tried a different tack. “What did he look like?”
She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know. His features were blurred out like the street signs. It was as if he’d warded himself.”
“Warded.”
“It’s the metaphysical equivalent of being in disguise. I think he shielded himself somehow.”
“With a magic spell?” Jack couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.
Becca looked away, her lips compressed as if she refused to say anything else. She slung a huge patchwork bag over her shoulder and pushed her feet into a pair of sandals near the desk.
Studying her, he rose. The corners of her mouth turned downward, and resignation dulled her eyes. Remorse pummeled him. What the hell was he feeling guilty about?
It didn’t matter that this woman seemed fragile and lost. Defeated. He wasn’t about to feel sorry for her. She’d just sat here and lied to him about one of the more brutal murders he’d ever seen.
She cleared her throat. “I’m guessing this is the part where you take me downtown.”

No question about that. He just needed to figure out how he wanted to play this. Be her friend, stop and get her some coffee, coax her into confiding in him? Or scare it out of her?

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, in an attempt to stave off the throbbing behind his eyes. He didn’t have the patience to play nice. The scent of spilled blood still lingered in his nostrils, and the victim’s expression of unmitigated terror was seared onto his brain.

Becca stared at him expectantly, then turned around. She placed her wrists together behind her back, offering herself to him. Her shoulders straightened as she awaited her fate. She looked like Goddamn Joan of Arc headed for the stake.
Guilt sucker-punched him for the second time that morning. “You’ll need to leave your purse.”
She let it slip to the floor and resumed her position. Cursing inwardly, he circled a slender wrist with his fingers. Her skin slid softly beneath his roughened hand and he paused. She met his gaze. Hope flared in those dove gray eyes. Even when the cold clank of the handcuffs crushed it, she refused to look away from him.

Okay, I was tagged by the incomparable Brynn Paulin for this meme, and I asked my husband for help thinking of six random things about me and he said, “you…your moods…your thought processes…” Yeah. Thanks hon – so helpful. Anyway, without further ado…

Six Random Things About Me

1. I have a large collection of Fairy Tales – well over 150 volumes.

2. I used to make a living making wedding dresses and veils and bridesmaid dresses. I’d also charged a “Bitch Fee” to the super haggy clients.

3. I loathe most board games.

4. I have five piercings in each ear.

5. I’m scared of clowns…and ventriloquist dummies. They’re just disturbing and wrong, wrong wrong!

6. I’m addicted to vanilla flavored lip balm.

Here are the people I’ve tagged:

a) Anny Cook
b) Lora Darling
c) Amarinda Jones
d) Sandra Cox
e) Molly Daniels
f) Jacqueline Roth

The Rules: Link to the person who tagged you. Post the rules on your blog. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

I was chatting with Kelly the other day about public humiliation via the written word. No…not my written words – other people’s. Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett wrote one of my favorite books of all time—Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch.

It involves an Angel named Aziraphale, a Demon named Crowley, the Apocalypse, the misplaced Anti-Christ and the four Horsemen. The end of the world is coming and it’s freaking hilarious. This particular story not only made me laugh out loud in public places, but laugh uncontrollably.

Unfortunately, I don’t possess one of those delicate laughs – you know the kind – the one that always causes the hero in romances to smile in appreciation. Nope, I’ve got a full-on cackle that can be heard from a good half mile away. The kind that makes friends and family cringe. The kind that causes my son’s friends to say, “Dude…I can totally hear your mom from here.”

I also have the added bonus of crying if I’m laughing hard enough. I can’t tell you how many critique group nights have involved me flapping my hands, gasping for breath while laughing hysterically with tears streaming down my face.

This is the kind of laughter this book induced. I was nearing the end while in the reception area of a loan office waiting to refinance our mortgage a few years ago. I tried to be quiet – I really did, but it was just too funny. Especially the footnotes ala Douglas Adams.

I got a lot of dirty looks (most of them from my husband), but more questions about what I was reading. I like to think I sold a few more books for the authors. So Neil and Terry, you’re welcome.

I had the polar opposite experience while reading Elizabeth Berg’s Talk Before Sleep in a doctor’s office. Again, I was near the end and sobbing like a lunatic. I don’t what I expected – I mean, it’s Elizabeth Berg – of course it’s gonna be sad.

So I’m reading, trying to be all discrete while wiping away my tears and blowing my nose and I hear this little girl say:

“Daddy? Why dat yady cryin’?”
He glances up from his magazine and looks at me like I’m a freak and says, “I don’t know honey.”

So the little girl stares at me for a while and walks over and says, “Hey yady, why you cryin’?”

So I shut my book and say, “I’m reading this book and it’s very sad.”

She wrinkled up her nose and said, “Then why you reading it?”

Good question, kid. I said, “Well, my friend read it and really liked and told me I needed to read it, too.”

She stared at me for a minute, put her hands on her hips and said, “Your friend is mean!”

It should be noted that no one else in the waiting room wrote down the title or seemed to have any desire to read this one.

What about you guys? Have any works of fiction embarrassed you in public?

I’m not sure how I did it, but somehow I managed to pull a muscle in my neck while folding clothes. Seriously – I don’t understand how I mange these extreme feats of grace and talent. Sigh…

In other news, I just received a review from Night Owl. I got 5/5 hearts for Solstice Seduction and was a reviewer Top Pick! The reviewer said:

Bronwyn Green is an exceptional writer she never ceases to amaze with her books. Bronwyn also teaches you little morals with her books sometimes they are hidden and sometimes they are right out in the open. She is a wonderful writer and this book is truly one for the keeper shelves.

The morals bit surprised me a little, but hey – I’m not complaining! Here’s the link if you’d like to read the whole review. http://www.nightowlromance.com/nightowlromance/reviews/Review.asp?ReviewId=1136